Tag Archives: minions

Adventures Of An Idiot Gnome

16 Jan

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Office is slow again today. We’ve run outta things for Idiot Gnome to do…so WHS Pimp has launched her on the outter yard to pick up scraps and clear nails.

…Meanwhile, we sit in  the lobby having totally inappropriate office conversations in between incoming phone calls.

…Idiot Gnome has only been doing this for about 40 minutes, and has already been in here four times to amend her homemade “hazmat suit,” guarding her against the evils of dirt and stuff.

It begins with a 90 lb 5’2″ person, layered in three hoodies, a puffy snow coat, blue rubber gloves…inside of shop gloves, tennies, and optioned goggles…(Which we keep on hand for welding projects.)

…She now weighs in at approximately 125 pounds, and is clearly having issues with the bulk, waddling around like that kid from “A Christmas Story” movie, whose so puffed out, he can’t put his arms down.

From time to time, we clock her through the lobby windows.

Her return trips of outfit amendments are mostly based on the fact that her body is too small to fill the capacity of our average-sized protection aids.

…The rubber gloves (identical to the ones your Dentist uses) are baggy and at least two sizes too big…so her fingers have around an inch of excess rubber, unfilled and floating at each end. These, she’s tried to cram into the work gloves, to help fill THEM with some sort of grip-traction…as they were made for a small man, which means she might as well be wearing oven mitts for all the function help they give her.

…Watching her trying to pick up a nail off the gravel (for instance), is sort of amusing.

…So is the clearing out of the back of WHS Pimp’s truck bed.

Full of cast-off scrap wood from our latest large build, he has her categorizing the contents into separate piles for shimmy and leveling use.

…Occasionally, a larger piece of siding becomes excavated, as just a moment ago, which he’s been watching off and on out the window, as I deal with several emails.

Eventually, he begins to chuckle.

Me: (From my office.) What’s up?

WHS Pimp: She’s just found an OSB sheet.

Me: Yeah?

WHS Pimp: She’s trying to figure out how to get it out of the truck.

(He giggles again.)

WHS Pimp: She’s sorta trying to bench press one end up, and grip it at an angle.

Me: Like she’s trying for over-the-head?

WHS Pimp: God, I hope not. First all, she can’t see anything. All those hoodie layers have like fused her neck range-of-motion to less than a Batman cowl. Second, if that thing gets any wind, it’ll catch lift, and whip her right up…like Mary Poppins…

(I start to chuckle.)

WHS Pimp: …Only a LOT more violent…

(I start to laugh.)

WHS Pimp: …Just a tiny rag doll, flung in the wind…

(I laugh harder.)

WHS Pimp: …Course she wouldn’t be prepared for it, either. And those gloves are EASILY ten or twelve sizes too big…so we know there’s like zero grip there…

(I contract my belly, hunching over.)

WHS Pimp: …Which, with the wind-shift against the wood weight, will flick the gloves right off of her, somewhere mid-lift, but her body inertia will just keep going…

(I start to cry)

WHS Pimp: …And she’ll have about three good seconds of total air, like a tiny flying Michelin Man float, cut adrift…

(I’m gasping for air.)

WHS Pimp: …And, where with other people that time would be filled with their life flashing before their eyes, thinking, “OH HOLY SHIT, I’M GONNA DIE!”…?

(Still Gasping.)

WHS Pimp: …She, instead, would have this totally amazing moment of complete innocent wonder. Then at some point: fall.

(Gasp. Cry. Gasp.)

WHS Pimp: …And we’ll run out there, and have to wake her up, making sure she isn’t dead or something. And you know what will be the first thing she’ll say?

Me: (Ugly-cry-laughing.) “You guys! I can fly!”

WHS Pimp: Exactly.

~D

Pizza-Coffee, With Barry & Ben & Jerry

14 Jan

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Just finished marrying the last of the coffee from the carafe into my already cold cup.   My fourth, all-told, for the day.  Naturally, nuking it is a necessity.

…But WHS Pimp just finished zapping his pizza.

…So now I’m drinking pizza-infused bold-roast.

It’s more than a little disgusting.

…You know how your coffee sorta settles a bit, and gets that film, floating on top…?

…And, you know how pizza has a lot of grease and somehow only gets oranger and greasier when nuked…?

The top of my coffee looks like an oil rig spew…slightly rainbow-swirled, and “wrong.”

…Yet, I am drinking it anyway. Never mind that the taste generally lines up to about what it sounds like it would taste like.

…Because: It’s coffee. (Sort of.)  I don’t want Idiot Gnome to make another whole pot, cuz I will DRINK the whole other pot.  So I need to just sit here, and swill my toxic sludge and shut up about it.

…’Cept to you…who never seem to care when I complain.

In fact, just the other day, someone remarked about how much day-to-day joy is lost from their coffee breaks, cuz work here ain’t the Hell it once used to be (for like two years or so.) 

I guess sometimes people miss complaining. 

…I knew that was true in the first person case (though in this regards, I certainly don’t miss it), but I’ve rarely heard that about OTHER people’s thoughts on someone ELSE’S horrible shit-fest. 

I like to think it is because everyone has BEEN in a shit-fest at SOME point or other, and it is just said person missing the camaraderie.  Or maybe making fun of it.   Or maybe feeling better about their own life choices.

We may never know.

…But for some reason, Boss is missed by some of you…and some people wish Idiot Gnome had a more developed “Greatest Hits” list.

Truth is, she’s sorta learning a little (in some things) and is cheap (in salary)…she takes the trash out without telling her, and goes to find us eats whenever we want (without grumbling)…so we’ve eased up on her a little.

…Which isn’t to say that we’ve no comments about her desk-personalization choices of Hello Kitty mouse pads and pink rhinestone-bedazzled stapler, tape dispenser and pen set…

…Or that we cease to be amused by her Whoville hair, floating like ever-changing colored feathers any given day to any given day. (She is currently in what one might call a “transition” from fading pink to auburn with blonde under-streaks…achieved by box-brunette on top of blonde, with a light red rinse just before Christmas, which didn’t take well, turning pinkish within a week.) Or the fact that she wears so much pancake foundation that the buttons on her phone cease to have numbers.

…Or her “adorable” habit of declaring how starving she is when we order food, then basically licking the top of the bun free of sesame seeds, declaring she’s “stuffed.”

She’s sort of like a pet at this point…where we keep her in her little front lobby cage, and allow ourselves to be amused by her daily idiosyncrasies, taking bets on her ability to do a project right the first time, rather than get all up in arms about it when she rarely does. Mostly because we totally understand her capabilities at this point, and know what NOT to trust her with…and she can answer a phone without falling all over herself (at last.)

…So we’re sorta good with that.

For now.

…But speaking of “pets”…did you know I’m fostering three for Cecil whilst she is out London way for the quarter?

Two frogs (Ben and Jerry) and a Beta (Barry.)

They live in one combined bowl, ‘tween Daphne and Niles, and seem to be adjusting just fine…though the frogs really freaked me out for the first couple days. Cuz they’re FROGS.

…Aquatic African Dwarf frogs, actually. But in time I was able to bond with them a bit, just out of curiosity. They’re very social and animated. If anywhere within sight line, you really can’t HELP watching them and their constant life of strife. Poor bastards work out all day long and don’t seem to get anywhere really. I bet they just long for sunshine and a rock. But I’m told not. So I just leave ’em be.

…In case you are at all interested in getting some as pets, I’d like to recommend them highly. As basically they do all the work, and make you laugh a lot in exchange for daily pellet feeding (I refuse the frozen worm thing), and a once-weekly bath.

…Which, if you wear giant rubber gloves that go up to your elbow, like I do…keeps you totally safe from accidentally touching one…which funny as they are or not…would totally NOT be okay.

I’ve decided that if I ever venture that way (post-fostering), I would name them Esther (Williams) and Fernando (Lamas). Cuz they seem forever to be doing extremely complicated choreographed water ballets, in between what looks to me like a yoga regime, involving a wide-reaching scramble to the top of the bowl, followed by starfishing in a free-float back to the bottom of the bowl, in zen-like stillness, whichever way they happen to fall.

…FOR. HOURS.

…I know. Cuz I’ve watched.

…I REALLY need a new show to focus on, you guys.

~D

Gnome-Idiot, Takes The Lead

8 Oct

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Now that Boss has been relegated to a mere “Feature Guest” role in the blogosphere (soon to be killed off, General Hospital style)…a new idiot has taken his place at the office, in pursuing the “ridiculous” and “mind-blowingly” stupid things for which he has become so beloved, by the yous.

…Not “beloved” in a “Happy Christmas morning” kind of way.  More like “that stupid thing you did while drunk that one time, which turned into your best party story.” 

Entertainment.  That’s what we’re talking about.  And there is a new kid in the “stupid” game.

…We will continue to call her the Gnome-Idiot. Because of both her pint-size and sheer innocent stupidity. 

After two weeks, I’ve come to the conclusion that she REALLY can’t help it.  It is not due to bad choices.  Watching her for sixteen days…128 hours…I have used all of the (frankly considerable) study time, wisely.  Mostly because I simply can not believe that a human being can make it to age 24 and be as seriously backwards and innocent in not only human interaction and communication (but, especially in THIS day and age) all tech and computer forms imaginable.

She has a High School Diploma, and got into College, without ever once using any form of Office Suite software, having to alphabetize, talk to adult human beings (or in complete sentences), nor realize the common sense kind of things that keep you out of being that 1% that every accident of all time happens to, because there is no warning label yet to TELL you NOT to stick a butter knife in a toaster, blow dry your hair in the shower, or cross a highway, on foot, and without looking both ways.

…Honestly.  After the first week, I seriously doubted the validity of her stupidity.  So I started sorta, allowing it to be put to the test.  Here and there.  Now and again.  And without fail, she upheld her end, each and every time.

I mean, this girl is seriously.  Seriously. SERIOUSLY, legitimately deficient in just plain common sense. Not even a little bit.

…This girl is the kind of idiot that you have to teach how to pour coffee grounds into a filter.  Not “make coffee.” Just “pour in the grounds.”

…This girl is the kind of idiot, who continually forgets how to put a call on hold.  Or take it off.  She’s the kind of idiot that has screwed up one of the five separate file systems, at least once per day, since she has walked in the door.  The kind of idiot who, no matter how much you train her, has YET to answer a single phone call, without passing them back to someone else for help…who forgets our phone number printed ON A SHEET IN FRONT OF HER, which I placed there, for that purpose, two weeks ago. She asks things like, “How do you heat this water for tea?” and “What do I do after scanning these?” When there is a post-it note on the stack of paper telling her point-by-point directions on what exactly to do.

…In fact…there have been A LOT of post-it notes.  Three cubes worth so far.  Everything in her inbox has to be labeled with step-by-step instructions, AND still are brought forward for interpretation when she finally gets to them.  Common communication between us has included conversations like:

G-I: “So, when I’m done faxing these sheets, I do what with them?”

Me: “File them. Like it says.”

G-I: “Okay. Well cuz, um…I just wanted to make sure cuz, um…well…I just did this yesterday.”

Me: “With other papers. Yes.”

G-I: “Cuz like…I mean…it just seems like I do this a whole lot.”

Me: “Right. Because it’s your job.  It’s what we do here.  A lot of faxing. A lot of filing.”

…And…

Me: “Okay.  So, you’ve filed these batches incorrectly again.”

G-I: “What do you mean?”

Me: “Remember?  THIS stack is for ‘archives,’ and THIS stack is for ‘pending.’ ”

G-I: “It just gets really confusing…”

Me: “It’s okay.  You just have to look at the dates, remember?  You know because THIS stack has dates that are passed, they are for archiving. And THIS stack with dates that haven’t happened yet, are ‘pending.’  Also: the bins are labeled.  See?”

G-I: “Ohhhhhh.  Wow.  I’m really glad you explained that.”

Me: “We had this same conversation yesterday.”

G-I: “Right but, I mean…there are really a lot of stacks of paper around here.”

…And…

Me: “…So then, I need you to just label these hang files with these titles please.  On tabs.”

G-I: “Riiiiiight.”

Me: “Is there…what’s wrong.”

G-I: “Yeah.  By hand or…?”

Me: “No, the computer deal didn’t work out so well the last time.  Just by hand.”

G-I: “…And these marks?”

Me: “What marks?”

G-I: “These thingies.  You want these thingies on the tabs too?”

Me: “The quote marks?”

G-I: “Yeah.”

Me: “No.  No…you don’t need to put the quote marks in.  That’s just what I want you to call them.  Remember? You got a little confused the last time I just wrote titles down.”

G-I: “Riiiight….”

…This is REAL-talk, people.  Actual conversations.  With an idiot.  And she’s not joking. She’s not pulling a leg.  She’s actually, ACTUALLY just an innocent, actually, actually asking these questions.  For real.

It’s real.

REAL.

I’ve tested the waters, and NO ONE is that good of an actor.  She’s the GENUINE article. Either that, or she is in Witness Protection from the Mob, and her LIFE is at stake, here.  Those are the ONLY two options.

…So, as I wait until the 15th, (the date when we are told Boss is to be canned and I can go and find a legitimate QUALIFIED office assistant), I bite my lip repeatedly, and attempt to keep from obliterating her to tears.  Because every time we need to have these little conversations, it’s like I shot her dog or something.  She is so very eager to make good.  But so very incapable of achieving it. 

…Which puts us at a dead lock for another week.

Dear lord.  How will I even make it?

…If I have to hear one more sentence like, “Um…yeah, I think black is the darkest color we offer…”…I think I’m gonna explode.

…Yet every day, she seems to top the last, somehow.

It’s like: she’s a fucking magical Leprechaun of fairy-dom.

Totally unbelievable…despite all our wildest imaginings: yet, there she sits.

~D

When It’s That Full

3 Oct

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I’ve been in Bally-K for the entire week, (Whenever not pinned inside the office.)

Tonight, I watched exactly how far I did the LAST (and first) time I watched this show.  Until the end of season 3.  Where I shouted obscenities at the TV a lot, in between mopping up my face.

…I never have watched the rest of the seasons.  And I fully intend not to.  On principle.

Anyone who kills off my favorite, deserves to go unwatched.

…Unless you are Joss Whedon.

…In which case, I just cuss some more, pour out another drink, and suffer through it.

…But not in this case. 

In this case I’m angrier than as I was the first time.  Possibly because so much in life can be shitty, and people that waste the parts that aren’t, piss me off.  Especially when they are me.  But even more so, when they are my favorite characters in some sort of ongoing drama.  I get invested.  Perhaps overly.  But it’s only cuz their lives seem to have so many better options than mine. In that they have “different” options than mine, and I find that whenever people are especially frustrated or depressed, “that other thing, over there” always looks better than whatever the hell is cooking on the stove, “over here.”

…Maybe it’s human nature.

I dunno.

…What I do know, is that in three seasons of laughter, tears, and shenanigans, no one has had to deal with anything as remotely useless as Boss, or as totally incompetent as the New Minion, at the office. This ALONE makes Bally-K a special little haloed oasis.

By 9 am today, I really was done with the little gnome-idiot, masquerading as a human, sitting in the front office. 

…This is AFTER a week and a half of training, which has gone nowhere, as the 24 year-old college drop-out has still managed to refuse learning the correct form of filing, typing up a letter, has never set eyes on Outlook, can’t use a calendar, has worse phone skills than a grade-schooler, and has to actually be told…every single time…to answer the phone when it rings.

I am stuck with this human potato with hair, until the 15th.  At which time we are told, Corporate is returning with “the guy who fires Management” and is stripping Boss of title, car keys, and all power.  (Not that we will believe it till we see it, but this is the rumor mill.)

…THEN (and only then) will I be able to go out into the workforce and shop for an actually qualified human to do these things…as he will no longer be around to take the lead in doing so himself.  Which is how we got Minion one (who couldn’t pass a drug test) as well as Minion two (who makes Jessica Simpson look like a Harvard Grad, with a major in Philosophy.)

…And in case you don’t believe me, ask Ma about it some time. 

…She’s spent a lovely six hours with the gnome-idiot, donating her time, trying to teach her how to file, write an email, and label a cabinet for the past two days.  So that I could actually get some work done.  This woman has trained even Executives who wear suits and attend Happy Hours for a living, on how to “not get sued,” by letting sexual harassment faux pas, vomit out of their mouths towards their Secretaries.  If she can do that, she can do ANYTHING. And even she turned to me today and said, “I don’t like giving up on people, but…you just can’t teach common sense.  You either have it, or you don’t.”

I told her that I knew that. Now. 

…The thought had occurred to me, about fifty times, since gnome-idiot first started working here.  Last Monday.

…It has re-occurred several gillion times in between those ones, when trying to teach her to answer a phone, or fax a sheet of paper, or scan something to a thumb drive.

…She almost blew up the shredder today, for instance.  Presumably by “shredding,” but God only knows. 

…I didn’t let her on the phones the entire first week, because her vocabulary (which you cannot season, counter, or correct) includes “um” with every third word…which makes her sound like one of those unfortunately dim-witted Valley girls from the ’90’s.  Even coaching has gotten us only as far as this stellar sample from today:

“Hello, this is [gnome-idiot]…um…I’m calling…um…to see…which color of…um…shingle you wanted.  You put ‘black’…but, um…so…do you want it or not?”

This is for real, people.

This morning alone she attempted to archive-file job invoices that haven’t even been built yet, lost three employee files, screwed up the final contract sign-off sheets, fucked up the confidential archives, updated the wrong version of the voicemail log so I was repeat calling the same people I did yesterday, forgot how to put a person on hold, forgot how to use the function-find feature on an Excel sheet report that is nine pages long, so took ten minutes to look up one customer who was (come to find out) on hold the entire time, and almost set the shredder on fire (we think by shredding staples still in the documents)…and all before 9:30 am.

…At which point, I walked into WHS Pimp’s office, shut the door, and wrote ” Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!” on a piece of paper.

…He responded in kind, when Boss decided to show up for the first time in God knows how long, to sit in The Pimp’s office and bother him for an hour.

…At which point I got a “bing” incoming email from him that read, “Oh holy fuck. We are surrounded by dumbasses.  What do we do?”

…At which point I suggested making a break to my office, locking all the doors, and leaving them to die of natural causes alone, on their solitary other sides. 

…Prob’ly of asphyxiation, cuz no one would be there to tell them to breathe.

…Or (in the gnome-idiot’s case) HOW to.

You know, this “natural selection” thing isn’t as bad as I used to think. For the good of the planet, maybe some species are not SUPPOSED to have the ability of “common sense.”  Like turkeys who drown when it rains. Bad politicians.  Or stupidly proportioned Dinosaurs.

…But maybe those of us who have some (common sense, I mean) should…you know…do our damndest to make sure they never reach a seat of power to BEGIN with.  And if they DO (by some fucked up scheme, historical bumble, or bad voter turn-out)…maybe it’s our human responsibility to unseat them as soon as humanly possible.  By almost any means imaginable. 

…For the “greater good.”

Because, if for nothing else, things like “this week” have taught us that.

The end.

~D

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